


Aziraphale's Body Is A Temple

by Peculeah



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Innuendo, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 13:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19297012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peculeah/pseuds/Peculeah
Summary: “Oh it is, I can assure you. It’s ever so lovely to be interesting.” He looked down at his own stubby, although incredibly well manicured, fingers as they lay across his lap. “So sorry you were lumped with this old thing, my dear.” Aziraphale smiled softly and folded his hands demurely atop his admittedly soft thighs. “I know She said to treat your body like a temple but I’m rather afraid with all the sushi and wine that I’ve treated mine like that temple we found in Tibet, remember?”“The one covered in monkey shit?”“That’s the one.”-The boys have a drunken chat and we all know by now that that's usually a Bad Idea.





	Aziraphale's Body Is A Temple

"I quite enjoyed being inside you, you know?" After a few glasses of wine, Aziraphale found that words he didn't even know were in his head would fall unceremoniously out of his mouth.

It had been a rainy day (the sort of heavy, pounding rain that reminded the world not to get on the Almighty's bad side unless they fancied creating another travelling zoo) so the angel thought it might be nice to invite Crowley in to dry off in front of a roaring fire. (This time the fire was positioned intentionally in the fireplace, as opposed to unintentionally all over the walls and floor.) Of course, predictably, this had led them to spend the next three hours proceeding to get more than slightly tipsy and chatting about the almost-apocalypse. As you do.

Crowley’s complexion darkened slightly at Aziraphale’s confession. Someone who didn’t know him as well might have suggested he was blushing.

“When we swapped bodies, of course.” Aziraphale clarified, placing his wineglass delicately on a precariously balanced stack of books as he settled back into his armchair. “It felt very different to this old thing. Less soft, more…” He struggled for a word that wouldn’t make him sound untoward. “Interesting.”

The angel watched as Crowley looked down at himself from his position lounging across the floor, stretching out his long limbs and examining his fingers curiously. “I’m not sure if interesting is a compliment, angel.”

“Oh it is, I can assure you. It’s ever so lovely to be interesting.” He looked down at his own stubby, although incredibly well manicured, fingers as they lay across his lap. “So sorry you were lumped with this, my dear.” Aziraphale smiled softly and folded his hands demurely atop his admittedly soft thighs. “I know She said to treat your body like a temple but I’m rather afraid with all the sushi and wine that I’ve treated mine like that temple we found in Tibet, remember?”

“The one covered in monkey shit?”

“That’s the one.”

A snakish grin crawled across Crowley’s face. “Don’t tell me I’ve found a celestial being with low self esteem.”

“No no, I appreciate my earthly body as a vessel, it has served me well and thus I have enjoyed it immensely.” Crowley smirked at this because, well, of course he did. “I just understand that it’s not… quite your style, perhaps.”

“How do you know my style?” The drunken and inquisitive smile on the demon’s face seemed half teasing and half genuine curiosity.

“Well obviously your body is more conventionally attractive. All lean and toned… A body built for sin, if you like?” Aziraphale was aware that words were escaping his mouth faster than his brain was working to stop them, but he really couldn’t do anything about it. He gesticulated vaguely while his mouth opened and closed a few times and obscure noises fell out. “Uh- hm- well as a demon, that would, you know, make sense.”

“M’sure your body could sin too if you tried hard enough.” With a little eyebrow wiggle, Crowley offered the angel a wink over the top of his dark shades.

“Let’s hope not.”

There was a moment of not entirely comfortable silence as Aziraphale tried to process the track of conversation, wondering how he’d let himself get so flustered. He picked up his wine glass and drained it; Crowley did the same.

“I quite liked being in you too, angel.”

“You really don’t need to say that, I’m honestly not looking for compliments-“

“Your body was much comfier than mine, warmer somehow, and not just because of the hellfire.” Crowley ignored Aziraphale’s interjection, unfolding himself from his position on the floor to reach for the bottle of wine that had miraculously been half full for the entire 3 hours of solid drinking. He stood up to his full height over where Aziraphale was sat and added with a knowing grin; “Also masturbating was a wild ride.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale shot up to his feet, the demon pressed his hand against the angel’s chest as though he had predicted the movement, and effortlessly pushed him back down into his chair.

“Don’t tell me you weren’t tempted.” Crowley grinned and refilled both of their glasses, leaning over Aziraphale as he did so. The angel was sure he didn’t need to be quite so close. "Just a little touch."

Aziraphale splutters incredulously, face hot with embarrassment, anger and something else. “I wouldn’t dream of violating-“

“Oh come on! I’m only teasing, angel.”

“Well I wish you’d stop!” The angel snapped, only slightly pleased when it seemed to shock the grin off Crowley’s face. “Just stop.”

Aziraphale decided that this was not a conversation he wanted to continue drunk, and so promptly sobered himself up. Crowley groaned in frustration.

“Come on angel, we were having fun!”

“Magic tricks are fun, you- you suggesting that I would- it’s getting cruel, Crowley.”

Blinking disbelievingly, Crowley pointed his index finger at the angel. “I happen to think that if anyone here is cruel it’s you.” He presses his finger into Aziraphale’s chest for emphasis. “So offended at the thought of touching my body, s’not that bad y’know.”

Aziraphale’s mouth dropped open into a stupefied expression as the demon dropped himself back down on the floor unceremoniously, somehow not spilling his wine. “Are you quite mad?”

“I mean, definitely.”

“Obviously my reaction was not a response to your physical form, my dear.”

“S’not that obvious.” Crowley mumbled still drunk.

“I wouldn’t… not without your consent.” He clarified, his rounded cheeks still a little pink. “You must know how you look, my dear. I had rather assumed you’d chosen your form as a type of personal torture just for me.”

“My body is torturing you?”

“Well you are built for temptation, that goes without saying.”

Aziraphale watched as Crowley’s mind tried to untangle his words, and continued watching as the demon forced himself to sober up. “And…” he started slowly, and Aziraphale immediately didn’t like where he was going. “What exactly has my body been tempting you to do?”

“You know what,” The angel jumped to his feet, “I’m pretty sure I left the shop open, can’t be having any pesky customers thinking they can just come in and-“

“Aziraphale.”

"Should I make us some tea?"

"Angel."

“Hm?”

Crowley stood up in one swift movement, ending up directly in front of the angel, their noses mere inches apart. His yellow eyes glinted inquisitively behind the dark lenses that covered them, scanning over the angel’s face as though looking for an answer to a question he hadn't yet asked. Aziraphale felt his own gaze dropping to rest on the demon’s lips, just for a second, and that seemed to be the answer Crowley was searching for.

“Allow me to tempt you, angel.”

“To… dinner?”

“Not exactly what I had in mind.”

It only took a small movement, barely even a movement in the grand scheme of things, but enough for Crowley to close the gap between their lips.

Aziraphale thought of objecting, he really did, but after so many years of wondering he couldn’t help but press further into the embrace.

It was chaste and delicate and long overdue. Their lips fit together as though they were made to do this, and perhaps they were. This could all be part of God’s ineffable plan. Or maybe not. As Crowley slipped his fingers through Aziraphale’s hair and deepened the kiss hungrily, the angel found himself not giving a flying toss what the ineffable plan was, so long as he could keep doing this.

He gripped onto the collar of Crowley’s jacket as the other man’s arm snaked around his waist. No wonder the humans were so obsessed with romance and sex; nothing in heaven felt as good as Crowley sucking his lower lip into his mouth and holding onto him as though Aziraphale would fall apart if he let go.

They only stopped when Crowley tilted his head to try and get even closer, almost stabbing Aziraphale in the eye with his sunglasses. The angel pulled away slightly, smiling at the small whine that escaped Crowley’s lips.

Aziraphale ran his hands up Crowley’s chest, his neck, his cheekbones until he got to the frames. “Let’s get rid of these now, my dear. I'd love to see you properly.” He pulled the glasses off the demon’s face and dropped them onto the chair behind him, not taking his eyes off Crowley’s own yellow pair. “That’s better.”

“You’re soft.”

“So are you.”

“I’m going to show you exactly how wrong you are about that, angel.”


End file.
